


Hot Chocolate

by Bolontiku



Series: Hot Chocolate [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:08:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21840502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bolontiku/pseuds/Bolontiku
Summary: A night on the bridge ends with hot chocolate, neither of you knows what that first cup will bring.
Series: Hot Chocolate [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1589224
Comments: 27
Kudos: 44





	1. The First Cup

**Author's Note:**

> Edit: ficlet has been turned into a series.

Empty. Empty. Empty, empty, empty. There was nothing left of you. You had looked in the mirror and stared at a stranger, no longer able to recognize yourself. You had left the apartment, your feet carrying you forwards until you had come to the bridge. 

Looking around until you were satisfied you were alone and carefully climbed over the barrier to teeter on the barely there ledge.

The concrete bit into your skin, you clutch at the edge as you peered over. Darkness swirled below you, though you could hear the rush of the water. 

Cold, empty, and hungry. That darkness was hungry, it would swallow you up and you would cease to exist.

No more. No more pain, no more sorrow, no more loneliness.

Silent tears tracked down your cheeks. You wondered if anyone would notice? Notice your absence. Not that anyone cared, work would just hire someone, grumble about how inconvenient it was to have to do so, but that was it. 

You had no one.

There was him. 

_ He _ would miss you. 

Miss shoving you into the wall, pushing you down under him, leaving you with bruises…

That was it though, no one asked, they turned a blind eye, placated with your automatic response of, "I'm fine!" Followed by a bright smile. 

It left you empty, drained, exhausted. There was no joy in your life, you remembered growing up being surrounded by friends. Laughter had been a constant. Books and outings with them. If you thought back to just a year ago you had friends, though they had disappeared so slowly. 

A little whimper left your lips and hung in the cold air in front of you. 

You just had to let go.

"Ya know, if ya need help you could just ask for it?"

You let out a yelp, spinning precariously on the ledge of the bridge and slamming into the concrete, grimacing as you did so. Large strong hands gripped your elbows and you look up at a tall man with black hair and coffee brown eyes, he easily lifts you and pulls you to the other side and set you down gently. Your legs wobbled and you sank to the floor, you look up as he knelt in front of you, “was it your intention to throw yourself into the water?” he asked sounding furious. 

Yes, the answer is yes, God yes. Though you didn’t answer out loud, keeping the urge to flinch under control. You would not cry. His brows furrowed as he grabbed your upper arms, a small hiss leaving you, “what is this?! Who did this to you?” there was anger in his words.

You stared up at him blankly, “why would you care?”

Lips pursed together in a straight line and the thought came unbidden, you had angered him. Instinctively you recoiled, pulling back away from him. “Yer right, I don't."

You stared at him in shock, shrinking back as he reached out and swiped his thumb over your cheek, gasping as relief flooded over you, a sob exploding as you threw yourself at him. Strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you close, his voice low as he whispered to you. "Fine, fine, c'mon then. Ya like hot chocolate? Chocolate fixes everything…"

"I don't even know your name?"

He chuckled, low and dark, "call me Brock."


	2. Hot Chocolate

  


Warnings: physical abuse, suicidal thoughts, violence, soft Brock

* * *

You knew that a night out meant you were to be on your best behavior, and you had been. You kept one step behind him, hand clutching his unless he let go, you kept you head down, hair covering your neck. Your outfit one he picked out, one that covered any bruises.

You spoke to no one, unless he nodded, giving you silent permission.

Then how did you find yourself here now? You had done everything right, everything. It wasn't your fault someone had stared too long, you hadn't been paying attention to anyone else, your eyes only on him or the floor. His friends had clapped him on the back congratulating him on what a wonderful woman he had.

Wasn't that what he wanted?! Wasn't that what you wanted? It had been a compliment, maybe that why his fist connected with your abdomen here in the backroom he had led you to. You had been an idiot, thinking that he would be happy, that you had done right.

"Don't make a sound," he growled low in your ear as he forced you to your knees, although it wasn't too difficult, they had buckled once the air had been punched out of you. "Got all eyes on you tonight huh? Make ya feel good huh?!" You could feel the hot tears streak down your face, "you gonna go out the back door there and walk home. Yes! In the cold, give you time to think bout how your gonna make it up to me-" he jerked your head back and you waited for another hit, but it didn't come.

Instead the door swung open halting his movement. "Get out of here!"

"Woah, fuck is going on here?"

The man looked vaguely familiar, and the memory of a cold night on the bridge followed by warm arms and hot chocolate came rushing to the front of your memory.

He locked eyes with you, "kid, y'alright?"

You were shoved down and kicked back, "none of your business, get outta of here already!"

The edge of your vision blurred, how many times had you been at this point? The bridge, you had thought about it when he mentioned your walk home. You could stop, it wouldn't take anything, just a deep breath.

There was a racket, scuffling, shouts, there were people- it all blurred together as you curled into a ball. Just breath, slow breaths, he would tire of you, he always did. He'd get tired of kicking and punching you or you would black out.

You just had to wait it out.

You vaguely felt hands on your shoulders, someone speaking softly to you. Curses, it was your fault really, he always reminded you it was your fault.

***

It was soft. It was warm.

Wherever this was.

You couldn't remember walking home.

"Cause you didn't, you’re not there, you said no hospital so guess your stuck here," a rough rumbling voice said. Cracking an eye open you realized your other was swollen shut. He looked unimpressed when you mumbled at him. "That's my bed your in," you mumbled again, "what?"

"Tyler?" you asked clearing your throat and pushing the plush covers down.

He scowled, he looked scary, he should look scary... Tyler scared you, he looked prim and proper. This man was rough, stubble on his jaw, eyes sharp and tracking every movement, this man had scars on his hands and forearms, but he didn’t scare you. Not a bit.

"So, that's the piece of shit that had you on the edge of the bridge? Fucking Tyler?" He scoffed and pulled a chair over, the legs scraping loudly across the floor, he brought two mugs along as he dropped his long frame into it. "Hot chocolate, lets see," he tilted his head urging you to sit up, "our friend Tyler is probably swimming along that little bit of water you were so fondly staring at by now. Had Alex drag his carcass out of here."

You had cautiously taken the mug he had handed you and blown on it just as carefully, eyes widening as you looked at him, mouth falling open.

"Don't give me that look!" He growled pressing his lips to his own mug, his scowl deepening. "He is a piece of shit!"

"He's all I know!" You cried. What would you do now? Where would you go?

“D’ya even remember me?”

You stared at the mug in your hands, the dark liquid steaming, “you’re the man on the bridge.” Again the memory came rushing back, he had taken you to a bar, a bar that served hot chocolate. Where the fuck? A giggle broke from your lips, nearly hysterical.

Brock shifted in his seat as a tear rolled down your cheek. “That chocolate will get cold...”

You nodded rubbing your face with a free hand, what were you going to do? You didn’t know anything aside from Tyler, you managed to sip the chocolate. It was just as sweet as that night you had first met him, a sob broke past your lips, chin trembling as you struggled to keep from crying.

“Let it out, I ain’t telling no one,” he grumbled quietly, “make sure to finish that, made it myself.”

You nodded, letting the tears fall, swallowing chocolate as you wailed angrily swiping at the tears. 

You had no idea what life without him would be like now. That was terrifying.

But you had hot chocolate for now.


	3. Chocolate & Blessings

His thumb ran along your bottom lip, dark chocolate eyes focused on it, forefinger curled under your chin. You held stock still, chin tipped up as he brushed the pad of his thumb over the healing cut, ignoring the way his cologne filled your nostrils. Ignoring the rough pads of his fingers and how much you wanted to- 

"That looks good," he rumbled. You shivered, tongue chasing his thumb as he ran it down to the middle and down your chin, which he pinched and pulled away. "How ya feel?"

How to explain? He was so close you could feel the warmth of his body, ducked down as he was you could easily push up to your toes and close your lips over his. "Better."

He grunted, knuckles brushing along your jaw gently, he smirked, "ya wearing that scent."

He meant the perfume you kept, the only thing you'd ever ask for, your little something to get you through the horrible days. 

Brock loved the scent, lilacs, it was utterly you. Soft, gentle, he'd walk into it as he followed you and it had become a secret pleasure of his. Like when you vacated the couch before bedtime and it still smelled of you… 

"Can I get a drink already!?"

You bounced back, eyes skittering along the bartop, quickly nodding as Brock growled at the man that knocked his knuckles along the bar's countertop. Raucous laughter bubbling up as others joined in the chitchat. 

Brock pressed against you, hand on your tummy, you were sure it burned into your skin. "Fuck off ya old geezer!" Brock barked good naturedly, pressing by you gently, teeth bared as he grinned broadly.

"Brock! This old man fought in the war! All I want is a damned drink!"

You hurried into the dimly lit bar, it had become home. Brock had insisted that you needed a job, he took you to the apartment you shared with.. You looked around as you gather the empty beer bottles, snagging cups, wiping down the table. Trying to distract yourself from thinking about him, keep your hands from shaking. Breathe, breathe, you gripped the edge of the table. It took less time now, but it still was overwhelming. 

Still, you were determined to move on. 

Brock cracked a joke, the men laughing loudly, his eyes tracking your movement around the bar. He swallowed as you bent over the tabletop, growling softly at how your jeans hugged the curve of your hips, the way they cupped your ass. He forced his gaze away, saw Alex watching him and gave him the bird, "fuck you looking at?!" A few guys snickered as Alex held his hands up smirking and shaking his head.

There was no way he would let you go back to that prick. He had gone to collect your belongings, the tall dirty blond that was always at his side holding your hand as Brock easily tore past the door. 

He had felt the tremble in your hand on his back, saw Alex pull you close as your grip on his hand tightened. The terror that filled your eyes when that piece of shit stepped out. 

Brock shoulda killed the bastard, Alex had done a number on him though, well, what had been left of him.

He grinned, coming back to the present, watching as you smiled at a few of the regulars. 

You had been scared when he said you'd work at the bar he owned. No work experience for the last few years, Tyler had insisted he would take care of you. It was his way of controlling you, you were completely dependant on him for money among other things.

"You're gonna get some, can't go back out there without it. Now, it's just clean-up, if anyone gets handsy you come get me, if ya get scared you come to me, its too much? You come back behind the bar. Alex will be here and ya know he won't let ya cry."

You had nodded, following him around. 

Everyone of course asked who you were, no one mentioned the bruises. The rough men that came in flirting with you before they could even sit down, the older men claiming they were gonna marry you, they were veterans, had benefits. It made you giggle and relax. 

Brock made space for you in his apartment. He gave you his bed, cleared a drawer out, easily accommodated you. 

**

You eased into the spot next to him, closing the bar was easy, you had fallen into a rhythm after two weeks, it had been so long since you had worked you had forgotten how good it felt to make your own money. 

Brock would sneak outside to smoke every so often and you had found his spot, slowly inching out the back door as quietly as possible, still those dark brown eyes would slip over his shoulder and he'd motion for you to come closer. You'd scurry over to stand near him or on occassion sit on the cracked and dirty concrete.

Brock took a drag of his cigarette, sparing you a glance, "you good?"

You nodded dragging your knees up and wrapping your arms around them, watching as he exhaled, smoke crawling across his lips, clinging to the air. "Its quiet," you hummed closing your eyes, enjoying the quiet that always accompanied him.

Brock nodded, "if you want ya can head up, we'll finish up here." He watched from the corner of his eye as you swallowed, burying your face in your arms. 

He had caught you pouting every so often and he found it adorable. You seemed more relaxed around Alex, though Brock figured that would be the case. The guy was tall with green eyes and light brown hair, kid looked good, Brock guessed that was it. 

He himself had scars littering the majority of his torso, his nose had been broken more times than he cared to admit and he knew he came off meaner than most, which he used to his advantage. Though, he never backed down and he  _ was _ mean.

"Can I…" he looked over as you yawned, "chocolate?"

He grinned, eyes crinkling at the edges, "Alex could make ya some." There, the pout came out full force and he looked away, clearing his throat to keep from cracking up. He felt your shifting beside him, hands playing with the edge of those damned jeans, he guessed you were trying to drum up the courage to ask him to make it. 

"Ohhkay," you finally said, sounding defeated, moving to get up.

Brock reached out, taking a long drag as he caught your wrist in hand, quickly tangling his fingers with yours. "If ya wait I'll make it for you?"

"Mm!" You knew that this would end, he would send you off once you were back on your feet, which you knew would be sooner rather than later. It made you sad to think about, but you preferred to stay by his side as long as he'd let you. 

Brock was sure that when he died he'd have his own personal squad of demons waiting to welcome him with open arms in hell. Fuck, he had actively belonged to Hydra, had knowingly worked alongside them. How he had managed to end up here, how he had come across you not once but TWICE…?

He was selfish, he didn't deserve anything good, this could never end in his favor and he knew it. Someone as sweet as you? Nahh, he would make sure you got back on your feet, you'd end up dating Alex for sure. Fucker was already smitten with you, why else would he joke with you? Poke you? Actively flirt with you. 

Brock was not jealous. Not in the slightest, not with how you always relaxed with the idiot and tensed around him. Still, when you leaned against him, your fingers curling around his tentatively, he couldn't help the feeling in his gut. 

He would take whatever little blessings you'd give him without complaining. 


	4. Definitely Hot Chocolate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brock cannot keep his eyes off Y/N.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst? Angst-ish? Angst-ish!

Brock watched as you leaned over the counter of the bar, watching as Alex leaned in closer, whispering to you. Did he really have to get that close? Your eyes widened and you blushed shaking your head, hand covering the way your mouth dropped, and he knew you were feeling a heat as your ears turned red.

What had he said to you? Your eyes flashed around the bar and met his briefly.

Brock cursed as he crashed into a patron, the bottles he'd collected crashing to the ground. "FUCK!" He growled, "fuck, ah, shit, careful where ya step," he said as the man backed up and moved around him, he crouched down to gather the broken bits, pausing as your hands joined his vision. "Don't touch!" He growled reaching over swatting at your hands.

You jerked back. "I can help!" You said hurriedly, moving to grab the large pieces, attempting to ignore the knee jerk reaction.

Brock hissed, the broken glass slicing into his hand as you both grabbed the same broken shard. You stared, eyes widening as he pressed his other hand over the cut, blood dripping between his finger, "Brock!"

He stood, "clean that up," he directed moving quicker than you could respond and stepping behind the counter into the back room. He'd been stupid, watching you too much, completely distracted the past couple days as you seemed more and more at ease around him. 

Last night had been the kicker, you had cozied up to him on the couch while watching a movie, dragging the blanket you had bought with your latest paycheck over the two of you. He had fallen asleep, arm wrapped around your shoulder. When he woke you were laying atop him, head nestled under his jaw, arms wrapped securely around him, legs tangled with his. 

His chest had felt funny. He didn't like it, but he did. He could get used to it. If he had to. 

Then this morning Alex had come over, to take you out shopping. 

He had no clue, why should he? He wasn't the boss of you. Well, he was, but that didn't mean you were going to tell him everything. Even if you would date him or be his girl, he recognized you were your own person- he shook his head. He needed to stop thinking about you.

Brock growled as he shoved his hand under the faucet, red blending with the clear water and he dropped his head forwards. You deserved a good guy, not someone like him, not someone with blood on his dirty hands. You needed a guy that would take you shopping, buy you frilly shiny glittery things without thinking. 

**

He had gone of course, cause you invited him. It was after all shopping. 

Alex had spent the morning dragging you around, buying everything you pointed out. It would be delivered later and then lunch followed by sweets. 

Brock had skipped sweets, since they were out near the shop he decided to stop by and pick up his gun. There as he waited for it he spotted the perfect thing. He bought it immediately paying for it and his new gun and smiled as you and Alex walked in, "gotcha something," he said placing it in your hands, "nothing, uh, frilly or pretty, but it's shiny, kinda," he added awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.

Alex leaned over your shoulder as you stared at it, his hand falling on your shoulder, "suits you, good job boss!"

"Fuck off."

Alex snickered and you looked over your shoulder at him before looking back down at the knife in your hands. The handle was a warm brown chocolate, pressing the release allowed the blade to come out and Brock warned you to be careful. "Nothing fancy but it never hurts to have one around." Two fingers tapped your chin, your chest warming at the gesture. 

"I've never had one before…" you hummed in appreciation. 

Brock smiled, "let's go home."

** 

Brock looked over his shoulder as he heard the door open and you stepped to his side reaching for the small towels. "Gonna get blood on ya."

You shook your head, sniffled and wrapped his hand in the clean material. 

"Hey… hey, what's with the waterworks?" He asked leaning against the sink as you pressed your hand into his applying pressure. 

"I didn't mean to… and I know I have been a pest I don't know what I did to make you upset with me, I ruin things and I'm sorry."

"Hey, stop, stop that, who said you ruin things?" He asked, tone softening.

"Ty-" you looked back down at his hands, you had promised yourself not to think about your abusive ex.

The fact that limpdick made you feel that way about yourself made him see red, the fact that you thought he thought the same made him feel sick to his stomach, his heart dropping into his gut and settling there. 

"Hold that," you whispered quietly, he watched as you pulled the first aid kit out. "Alex.. Alex said I could move in with him, I almost have enough for my own place and I will be out of your way." 

You had swiped his cut with antiseptic and applied a bandage when he reached out, catching your small hands in his. "I don't wantcha to go," he admitted, surprising even himself.

Your bottom lip quivered and you could feel the tears welling up, "you've done s-so much for me… and I keep- I CUT YOU!" A sob tore out of you and he wrapped you up in his arms, muffling your next words against his chest

"Nahh, that was me being stupid-" he paused pulling back, "what did you say?"

Tears streaked down your face, your fingers clutching at his shirt, "I like you! I would never cut you!" You cried, chest tight as you hiccuped through a sob. Of course you would screw this up, Tyler always said it was your fault. Everything was your fault. "I'm sorry!"

Brock stared in disbelief at you, your head tipped back slightly, one hand scrubbing at your face and you were the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. 

Your small whine of sorrow was cut short as he pulled you closer, pressing himself into you, you looked up at him as he brushed your hair aside and he cupped your jaw. Brock chuckled, low and deep, you had fallen in love with that sound. "Are y-you laughing at me?!" You asked sniffling, pout in place.

"God dammit Y/N, you are so fucking cute. Tell Alex he can fuck off, you ain't going nowhere, understand?"

You nodded and then shook your head. "What-?" He was so close, so close you could feel his breath on your lips and…

Brock growled as you whimpered against his lips, your hands slipping up his chest and around his neck, mouth molding to his. He moved, hands on your hips guiding you so that he could lift you onto the counter next to the sink, and stepped between your knees to pull you closer. 

"Fuck," he gasped, lips leaving yours to travel along your jaw, down the column of your neck, tongue sweeping out to taste.

Your fingers caught in his hair, tugging him closer, head falling back as his teeth dragged along your skin. He was lighting a fire deep within you and you were burning; his lips, teeth and tongue making you whimper. Your body reacting while your brain struggled to keep up. "B-Brock.." His hands dipped down, cupping your ass and dragging you forwards where he could grind against you and OH! "W-wait!" You could barely squeak the word out as he sucked a mark into your neck.

Brock pulled back immediately, cold air hitting the both of you as you stared at one another. "Y/N… fuck.. I'm sorry!" He swallowed chocolate brown eyes seeking yours uncertainly as he struggled to calm his breathing.

A giggle escaped you, hands covering your small smile. "For what? I'm the one that cut you!" 

He swallowed the nerves that bundled in his stomach, had he been rough? Why was it that you made him so nervous? Why couldn't he get you out of his head? "Y/N, I- shit.." He stepped forwards thumbs brushing away the tears that marked your cheeks, "I didn't want it to be like that."

You leaned into his hands, rough, scarred hands that always touched you so gently. "But… you did want to?" 

He looked at you, eyes softening, "oh, yeah," he answered with a crooked grin, such a sinful sight.

You gifted him with a small smile, "me too."

He let out a laugh, warming your heart and the fearful thought that he didn't want you around disappeared, "how bout a chocolate?"

"You'll make it?" You asked as he helped you off the counter, grabbing his bandaged hand and lifting it to your lips briefly. 

It shocked him enough to make him stumble, "definitely."


	5. Ultra Special

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A thunderstorm sends Brock racing after you, a sudden realization hitting him once he has you back safe and sound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for my series One Word Prompt and I needed to add it to this little collection.

Brock was halfway through cleaning the glasses when Alex walked in, shucking water off as he slid out of his coat, “‘s really comin’ down out there,” he muttered looking around as he hung his coat up by the door.

Brock stilled, hand pausing midair as he was about to place it back on the shelf. He enjoyed a good  **thunderstorm** himself, the loud crashing and vibrations bringing with it memories, huddled together with old friends as they waited out a storm during training. He had spent several shielding Alex himself.

“Where’s Y/N?  _ HEY!! _ Where ya going?!” he cried as Brock easily vaulted over the counter and was out the door in seconds. “Y/N!?!” he called looking into the back room, hands on his hips as he looked around, bar was about to open and he’d have to deal with it himself. He let out a small groan as he got to it.

**

You had to go buy something, Brock remembered you talking about the kids he would let in and clean the bar for a few bucks. Nothing heavy, sweeping the floor, restocking the toilet paper, stupid shit he called it. But it kept them busy, one kid in particular came for the food Brock handed out after they were finished.

It was dark and cloudy as you stepped out, if you hurried you could make it back before it started to sprinkle.

Thunderstorms kept  _ him _ home, drinking bottle after bottle. When that happened it was never any good for you. It never ended good. He would drink till he was bleary eyed, drink till he couldn’t hear you cry with every hit, drink till he couldn’t stay hard while keeping you under him.

Thunderstorms were quick.

Thunderstorms made you cry.

**

Brock stopped, turning as the rain pelted down on him, a light flashing and there, just as the rumble and crash of thunder deafened all other noise he heard it. A small scream coming from the church.

He didn’t understand it, he had noticed though. Every time there was a rumble you’d have him make you his hot chocolate. Earbuds would go in and you’d retreat to the back of the bar, usually with his oversized jacket. He had peeked in on you a few times, the backroom didn’t have windows and was isolated from the outside being downstairs. It muffled the thundering and he figured you had bad memories, he never brought it up.

Stepping tentatively into the old church he held still, waiting, listening. His heart thundered in his chest, were you hurt? Were you scared? He thought back remembering your smile as you waved at him assuring him you’d be back in a second, why hadn’t he noticed you hadn’t come back? Idiot.

There, he heard it, a small sniffle and then a hum. That little hum, you always hummed it when you were happy and lost to the world around you. Usually when he and Alex were right by you.

“Y/N?” he called, his voice too loud in the darkened building. How had you managed to get in? There was no one else around and he was sure they locked the place. “Y/N?” he called again stepping quicker towards your faltering voice. He found you huddled down between the front pews, hands over your ears, humming quietly. “Y/N?!” he cried relief flooding him as he kneeled down in front of you grabbing your upper arms. 

You cried out, jerking back, head bumping into the back of the pew and tears streaming down your face as you suddenly launched into his arms a cry of relief leaving you as you realized he was there. 

Brock caught you, arms wrapping around you securely and lifted you into his lap as he sat on the cushioned pew, “hey, hey there, it’s alright, I’m here...shhh.” He cooed, voice thick as you sobbed into his shoulder. He didn’t like the way you shook in his arms, shaking hard, your small hands clutching at him desperately. “I gotcha, I’m here baby, here… lemme look at ya, lets see, you hit your head.” He pulled back, catching your face in his hands, nodding when he was satisfied that you hadn’t damaged yourself with the bump and wiping away your tears. 

“Y/N, I told you to stay inside,” you nodded, wrapping yourself around him once again, calming as his large hands ran up and down your back. Brock sighed, your knees hit the back of the pew as you straddled him. “Hey… you gonna sing for me?”

You sniffled.

“Make a deal, you sing for me till the storm goes away.. And I will make you my ultra special hot chocolate when we get back home. How’s that sound?”

“Ultra… special?” you mumbled into his shoulder.

“Alex hasn’t even got any it’s so special.”

You peeked up at him, bottom lip quivering as your fingers tightened in his shirt. Thunder rumbled, but Brock was here and it went away. You cleared your throat and pressed your face into his neck. “This little light of mine…” 

Brock hummed along waiting as you paused, thunder cracking once and silencing. Your voice whispering into his neck, there were things he wanted to do to you at times you were so adorable, but mostly, mostly he just wanted to keep you from being scared. If he could manage that… even if he did go to hell he’d be okay with it.

***

Alex stared, you looked like you were halfway to heaven, swaddled in Brock’s too big shirt, towel draped over your shoulders and the spare cover from the back room wrapped around you. “Ultra special hot chocolate?” he asked as you clutched the mug in your hands.

Brock grumbled as you nodded, it was ultra special, it tasted different, and you wondered what he put into it. 

“Y/N… alright kiddo?”

Brock glared, “she got caught in the storm, she’s fine,” he growled at the regular that had stopped just behind you where you were perched on a stool. He should have taken you home. It was further, but you would have been safe at home. Still, here he could keep an eye on you and if you needed anything then he’d be right there. 

Alex smirked as you blushed, he really did like the way his friend reacted when it came to you. “Y/N… wanna share?” he asked, smiling as he leaned in closer.

Brock raised an eyebrow as your eyes flicked to him, he kept a straight face as he gave no obvious answer. Nearly losing his composure as you shook your head, tipping the cup back and finishing it off as Alex cried out and crowded you playfully, bargaining for just a sip. 

Brock watched as you squirmed away from Alex remaining on the stool, you hid a yawn behind a hand as you tried to keep from laughing as Alex took the mug from your hand. 

Was this what happiness was?

Brock stilled, smiling as you immediately looked at him, brows pulling together in concern.

Fuck.

He was in fucking love with you.


End file.
